Nothing Left To Lose
by em1212
Summary: After the absence of Lauren, the team welcomes a new member, Eve Reese, into Graceland. The new Customs agent, formerly stationed in Maine, fits right in to the crazy lifestyle of Graceland, and working with Jakes couldn't be more interesting. It gets even more interesting when feelings are thrown around between the two. Jakes/OC


**(I had posted this on one account, but I deleted it to post it on this one. It is much easier to keep track of it on this email address. So, if you saw it on the other account, please ignore it.)**

**I would like to start off by saying that I do not own Graceland or any of its characters. I do own my OC Eve Reese.**

**I hope you enjoy!**

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Transfers are never easy. Scratch that, the actual transfer is pretty easy. It's all the shit that comes with it that isn't easy: the goodbyes, the promise to keep in touch when you know you never will, the moving of your life across the country. It had come as a surprise to me, and the other agents at my house, but I was willing to take on the new opportunity.

I had just finished the investigation of a gun smuggling operation, and my supervisor had called me in asking if I was willing to transfer. "A place in Southern California is an agent down," he said to me as we sat in his office. The room was small and blank; the kind of room where you always feel like you're going to be told bad news. "I told them I had an agent between jobs, but if you're not up for it, I can turn the offer down."

"Southern California, sir?" I asked, unsure if I heard him correctly. He nodded, and I leaned back in the cushioned chair. I was stationed in Maine at the time watching the Canadian border, the complete opposite of Southern California.

"Would you like some time to think about it?"

I ran a hand through my hair and took a deep breath. My senior agent always told me something that I never really thought of until that moment. He would ask me, "Ever heard of anything interesting about Maine?" I would shake my head. "Then what are you still doing here?" Even though our job was interesting enough, he was referring to the fact that I grew up there, and I haven't left. He always told me I need to get out and see the rest of the world, and that I needed to live while I was still young.

I sat up in the chair and answered, "No, I'm interested." He smiled and handed me a file containing information about the place, dubbed Graceland, and the requirements. I read down the list, stopping when I reached "Fluent in Spanish". "Sir, I don't know any Spanish." I was fluent in French, but Spanish was a whole other ballgame.

"Then you'll need to start immediately." He turned around in his chair and dug through a file cabinet. He pulled out a single piece of paper and handed it to me; it was a list of recommended books, audio tapes, and videos of learning Spanish. "There's already another Customs agent stationed there, and you'd be working with him, so you won't be going in blind. I'll call right now and let them know you're interested in the transfer. We should have confirmation by tomorrow, but until then, you might want to start language classes just in case."

I nodded one last time and left the office. It was strange to think that I may be in hot, beachy, Southern California in a few days instead of the countryside of Maine. Once in my car, a cheap used car given to me by the government, I drove around for a bit, daydreaming about the new life I could be living. Stopping in a small bookshop, I bought a couple of instructional books on Spanish and a set of audio tapes that I found on the list, and a few that weren't on the list. The only Spanish I knew was how to greet someone and to count to ten, so I started listening to the first tape as soon as I got back to the Customs house.

The next day, I got a call telling me to pack my bags. My transfer was confirmed. Telling my housemates was the hardest part, but they seemed to take it well. My senior agent smiled and told me to "Go get 'em, tiger," which is his famous saying. My bags were packed, and all of my housemates drove to the airport early the next morning to bid me farewell.

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Now, sitting on the plane, I feel more excited than I should about a simple transfer. The hardest part was over, and now only new beginnings await me. Apparently, three agencies, the FBI, DEA, and Customs, all live under one roof. It was going to take a lot of getting used to; my former house only consisted of Customs agents. I put in my headphones and began the second audio tape. This was going to be a long flight.

At the airport, I suddenly realize that I had no idea where I was going. I was told to wait at the airport and someone would pick me up, but I don't know where or who. I have never been to the LAX airport before, and to be honest, I don't know a thing about the surrounding area. I go through the usual after-flight routine and grab my bags before looking around for any sign of someone who looked official or not official considering everyone was undercover.

I wheel my bags over to the seating area and hope that whoever would know who I was. To pass the time, I pull out one of the Spanish books that I have yet to begin and a pencil. I jot notes on the pages and underline important parts to review later. Not much time has passes before I hear, "Eve Reese?" and I look up to see who it was.

A dark haired woman, who must be the same age as I, is standing in front of me wearing shorts, a tee shirt, flip-flops, and a pair of sunglasses perched on top of her head. I glance down at my outfit, a pair of jeans, a tee shirt, and boots, before feeling out of place. "Yes?" I answer.

"Charlie DeMarco. They told me you didn't speak Spanish," she tells me, pointing to the book in my hands.

"You're very observant," I stand up and stuff the book back into my bag.

She shrugs it off and smiles. "Welcome to California." She holds her hand out. I shake it and thank her. "You ready to go?"

"Absolutely." I take the handle of one of my suitcases, and Charlie takes the other. I thank her again, and we walk out towards the exit.

We don't talk until we get to her car. We're putting my suitcases in the back and she laughs. "You have shorts in there right?" she asks.

"One pair," I tell her shamefully. She looks at me like I had just told her that Bigfoot was real. "I know, I know." I climb into the passenger's seat, and she takes off. "So, Charlie," I say, trying to start a conversation, "What do you do?"

"FBI," she states, "so Briggs, Mike, and Johnny. Paige is DEA, so is Lauren, the girl you're replacing. Jakes is Customs, so he'll be working with you." I nod as she talks, trying to remember the names, which is hopeless without faces. "You'll get to know them all, don't worry."

We turn onto a street and park in front of a beachside mansion. I looked up at it with awe; it was amazing! The house was huge, unlike anything I'd seen before. I could smell the salt from the ocean, and I could hear the waves crashing on the shore. "You coming?" I hear and see that Charlie is already standing at the front door. I walk up the driveway and meet Charlie. She opens the door and leads me inside.

"Welcome to Graceland."

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**I hope you liked it!**

**I would appreciate reviews, so that I know if I should continue or not.**

**Thank you for reading!**


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